In Another Life
by E Salvatore
Summary: Olivia never remembers. Peter never forgets. But traces of what had been and what could have been in another life bleed through, right until the end. In which the Amber-verse Olivia is indeed Peter's Olivia. Round Three of my SWB Initiative.


**IN ANOTHER LIFE**

**Olivia never remembers. Peter never forgets. But traces of what had been and what could have been in another life bleed through, right until the end. In which the Amber-verse Olivia is indeed Peter's Olivia. Round Three of my SWB Initiative.**

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><p>Puzzle pieces.<p>

That's all she has – fucking puzzle pieces that lead nowhere and bring her more heartache than relief at finding the tiniest hint of a clue; there is no relief to be found because she is too busy being miserable.

She still dreams of him sometimes, even now when he's taken up most of her waking hours. The man she works with and the man in her dreams aren't all that different, but Bishop and Peter are definitely not the exact same person, because that man in the lab who antagonizes her every single day can't possibly be her husband, the one she sees every night, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She will never find him: this mystery guy who loves her so much. And so what's the point of the dreams? The memories? The tiny hints of what had been and the traces of a future long altered?

In another life, she might work harder at her own happy ending.

In another life, she might sit them both down and make him explain and let herself fall in love with him again.

In another life, he might tuck an errant curl behind her ear and call her _sweetheart_.

But this isn't another life; this is her life, her reality, her timeline. And so she takes those dreams, those memories and those hints and traces and locks them up in a dark corner of her mind, keeping them in the dark as the days, months, years pass.

Everything fades with time – even unreasonable, terrifying, all-consuming love.

…Right?

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><p>Secret dreams.<p>

Those are his only way of coping – secret dreams of him and her and _them_, together, as they should be; as they always were. Reality becomes a distant concept when darkness holds such an attraction for his broken heart.

He dreams of her every single night, even as his days grow longer and her visits become more frequent. But he doesn't dream of her – not really, because this isn't his Olivia, this cold, lethal, untrusting woman who looks like his Olivia and acts like his Olivia and feels like his Olivia once did, before he'd come along and pried her heart open.

He wonders if he will ever find her – _his _Olivia. He thinks that he probably won't, and whoever said the truth hurts was wrong, because the truth is killing him slowly – burning him alive and skinning him and drowning him all at once, and he can't escape from this truth: he will never find his Olivia.

In another life, he wouldn't settle for this and would push harder.

In another life, he would make _this _Olivia see the truth; make her remember and make her see and make her love.

In another life, he would have a lifetime with her.

But this isn't another life; it's a nightmare. And so he contains himself, snaps at her when he wants to love her, smirks when he wants to smile and walks away when he wants to hold her, because this is what she needs – this is what keeps her sane and relatively happy – and even now it's all about Olivia.

His or not, it doesn't matter, because she's still Olivia.

But… it does matter.

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><p>Lincoln freaking Lee.<p>

Lincoln Lee, of all people, becomes her distraction. Lincoln is the one she turns to whenever she feels lonely because Peter Bishop slipped up again today and called her some term of endearment. Lincoln is the one she turns to when Peter Bishop appears in her dreams, absolutely aghast at what she's doing. Lincoln is the one she turns to when she needs to forget that she doesn't remember Peter Bishop and yet, can't help falling for him.

Unfortunately, Lincoln catches on and nice guy that he is, ends things with her because he knows that every single time they've been out – a handful in the past three months -, she's used him as a distraction and someone to talk to, not someone she wants to move on with. And though he doesn't mind, he knows they both deserve better.

And she's can't disagree, because what she's doing isn't fair to any of time and besides, Lincoln and her? It's almost incestuous because he's like the little cousin who's come to stay; the one you're supposed to take care of. And then the cousin leaves and so ends Lincoln's time in Fringe Division because believe it or not, six months later, everything they've seen has finally caught up to him. And then there is just her… and Peter.

In another life, she might confront him for forever ruining her for others.

In another life, she might seize an opportunity and try to work it out with him because she's so tired and doesn't want to fight this – fight _them_ – anymore.

In another life, this would be the day they start their lifetime together.

But she closes herself off and stops feeling; becomes an uncaring machine. She thinks that if she does it long enough, those dreams and those weird feelings - the longing she feels for him - will stop. She thinks that if she is cold enough, her heart will freeze and stop feeling.

She soon learns that even machines have feelings.

And it hurts.

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><p>An asshole.<p>

That's what he becomes to protect himself: a total, useless, disgusting asshole who makes snide comments and smirks and basically just alienates Olivia. It becomes worse when she starts seeing Lincoln – he knows these kind of things, even though they try to keep it hidden, because he _knows _Olivia; every single thing about her.

And then Lincoln comes up to him and in hindsight, he regrets being such a jerk because the young agent had only been trying to help him by confronting him and asking him what the hell was wrong with him, for being such an asshole to Olivia. And he is speechless because it is only then that he realizes what he has become in an effort to build up walls and protect himself.

When Lincoln leaves, he knows this is his shot; knows this is his cue to swoop in and make her believe. But he keeps his distance and attempts to control his snide comments and basically turns mute. Olivia isn't any better because she shuts herself off and works, works, works.

In another life, he would show his concern about this and make her rest.

In another life, he would barge in one late night when she's the last one in the lab, with pizza and beer in hand, and make her eat before taking her home to get a decent night's rest.

In another life, he would make Olivia open up and become human again.

But he doesn't, because he isn't entirely human himself and what right does he have, to meddle with the tough agent who won't let him in; the agent he's been torturing for the last few months by being a total asshole. Yes, he's been torturing her.

He can only hope that this isn't his Olivia.

But she is.

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><p>Dying.<p>

They're dying and neither of them can believe it, because this has happened so many times and surely the others will swoop in and save them again. Except he's the one who usually saves her and she's the one who usually saves him while Walter chews on licorice in the lab, and that is not happening right now because they're slumped against each other, slowly losing consciousness and hope.

She knows this is it – this is the end and there will be no more decisions after this, no more choices to be made; no more late nights spent pacing because she wants, so badly, to just grab him and kiss him and tell him the most unexpected thing; tell him that she does reciprocate.

He can't believe this; can't believe that after everything he's done, this is how it ends – and they didn't even get their fifteen years. And in that one moment he hates himself so, so much for not trying harder – for not turning this into another life where they could have been together. But it's too late now and they've wasted so many years and damn it, why had he been so blind?

In another life – the one they've been living – they would stay quiet and just pass out together.

In another life – the one they've wasted – he would restrain himself from holding her, and she would control herself, and they would take comfort just in the knowledge that in death, they will be together.

In another life – this life they shouldn't have lived – they would make more mistakes.

But dying has a way of changing things and so she tilts her head up, just so, and he catches her lips and leans in, trading their very last breathes with each other. And when they part, he keeps her closer than before because he hopes this way, they won't be separated.

"I love you." She tells him and though a part of him wants to hit something because _why the hell didn't she tell him earlier?_, a bigger part of him just smiles and holds her tight, dropping a kiss on her hair, because _of course _she does, and always has.

"I love you, too." He tells her, although it's unnecessary. He tells her because he's been waiting to for three years now, ever since she first told him and he'd just smiled. Not this time – this time he says it back and the truth fills him with false warmth and hope until he feels Olivia's grip on him go slack and begins to see black edges before the panic can set in.

And in another life – this strange second chance they've been given – they find each other.

In this other life, they don't let go of each other, and they don't pretend, and they love like there's no tomorrow, because there isn't, not really.

And in this other life, they get a lifetime together.

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><p><strong>And… we're done! That's it for Fringe Finale weekend, folks, and this round of the SWBI. I hope you've enjoyed the Fringe days which we kicked off with Fringe Friday's <strong>_**'Am I Yours?'**_** and if you haven't yet, don't forget to check out yesterday's **_**'Last Words'**_**. Remember – tons of SWBI titles can be found on my profile!**

**Reviews would be amazing and might help me shake off this little funk I'm in. Oh, and maybe give me my Christmas spirit back. Anyone up for a challenge? Lurkers can just… you know, lurk. And hit up my homepage and Twitter for more information on the SWBI.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2011.**_

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><p><strong>The Screw Writer's Block Initiative (SWB Initiative) is open to everyone – and I mean everyone – who's ever won against writer's block. And if you're battling it right now…well, you've got perfect timing! Focus on a small plot bunny that just won't leave you alone and write a one-shot of your choice. Be sure to mention the Initiative or SWB Initiative. Come on, let's kick writer's block's a$$!<strong>


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